Happy New Year

Here we are, on the verge of something called 2024.

I'm not sure what to think. But here goes.

For a person like myself who was born in 1951, the very concept of 2024 seems, well, otherworldly. Maybe even unattainable. It seems like the very date could be someone else's vision of science fiction, and maybe from the perspective of an earlier decade, that could have been true. Perhaps in the way George Orwell saw 1984 when he published his dystopian novel in 1949. But here we are, about to live in our rapidly advancing future, coming at us minute by minute.

So how am I to negotiate my way through this future fog?

Good question. 

I want to say I'll take it as it comes, because that seems to be the most logical approach to me. It's the way I've always done things, I think. I mean, life comes zipping at you from different angles like a variety of pitches from a Cy Young winner. A year ago at this time, I was getting ready to have my second gall bladder surgery, even though I had the gall bladder removed years earlier (there was a remnant that still produced gall stones). Who saw that coming?

One thing I'll do is still go to the gym, arriving as I do every morning at 5 a.m., as I have for the past eight years. It's not so much an annual resolution to lose weight (well, it kinda is) as it is a way for me to keep my overall health in check. So far, all my wellness exams to date have pleased my doctor.

But there are no guarantees, of course. Future fog.

Having said that, I guess the best that we can do is try to prepare ourselves the best that we can. That's why my wife and myself have all our current vaccinations: Covid, flu, RSV – we took all of our shots in the same day. In the same arm. And, as it turns out, we are part of the mere 18 percent (as of Dec. 9) that has taken the Covid update. So is it any surprise Covid is once again on the rise?

I'm seeing more and more people voluntarily wearing masks again, and I think Kim and I will do the same on our next grocery store visit. We have attended several seasonal social functions, but went with the knowledge that the crud is still out there, so we try to limit our exposure. We still try to observe the 6-foot proximity rule, too, when we can. It only makes sense.

And, of course, 2024 is an election year. We need to prepare ourselves for that, too. Arm ourselves with actual knowledge and not conspiracy theories. Decide which candidate prefers democracy or fascism (and learn the difference) and then the nation can move forward.

Ready or not, here it comes: 2024.

Happy New Year.

 

A commercial Christmas

You've probably seen these two Christmas commercials already, but that's not my point. I mean, how many times have you seen "It's a Wonderful Life" but you still can't wait to see it again?

Point made. So there's this:

Chevrolet came out with this emotional heart-tugger back in November, and it depicts an elderly woman – a grandmother – who is suffering from  Alzheimer's. She's lost. She's confused. She doesn't even recognize her husband.

But then her granddaughter takes her out for a ride in their classic 1972 Chevy Suburban and somehow the experience rekindles a flame, a memory, in the old woman. John Denver's "Sunshine on My Shoulders" drifts from the eight track.

Flashes of her memories return when she sees the house in which she was born, the high school where she met her husband, the kiss they shared at the drive-in theater.

The whole sequence describes something called Reminiscence Therapy that can be used to help Alzheimer patients to experience moments of clarity. The old lady returns from the drive down memory lane and soon shares another tender moment with her husband, whom she now recognizes. What a Christmas present. (See here. Scroll to the middle of the text for the actual commercial).

The ad is amazing. Chevy doesn't brazenly throw its brand or its logo around and yet it tells a heartwarming story. The Suburban subconsciously tells you who's paying for the ad while it's bringing you to tears. Brilliant.

The version of the commercial I linked in this post is over five minutes long and that's probably not the one you've seen on TV. You probably saw the 60-second version, which has several gaps in the story here and there. This commercial only really works in the long version.

Amazon came out with its beauty at about the same time as Chevy. This one shows three elderly women, clearly lifelong friends, wistfully watching children sledding down a hill in the same way they once did as kids.

Then one of them gets an idea. She places an order to Amazon – the only time in the spot where the company surfaces – and the next day the women are seen gleefully sledding down the hill. In one brief satisfying moment, they are transported back to their childhood.

All of this is done to the tune of The Beatles "In My Life," only the song is done as a beautiful slow-tempo piano solo. I could listen to it all day. It's a "wow" moment for me. (See here).

Like the Chevy commercial, this ad also has multiple versions. The 30-second spot erases the moment the women become young again. It might as well be a different commercial. The longer version, meanwhile, tells a story that moistens your eyes.

Both commercials, I think, are aimed at an older audience. Probably us Baby Boomers, who are now growing nostalgic with our own touches of memory loss. The songs are a clue.

I normally don't get keyed up over Christmas commercials, but these two grabbed me by the throat.

It's Christmas commercialism at its best.

Merry Christmas.

Ralph Brinkley

Shortly after I moved to Lexington in 1976 to become the new wet-behind-the-ears sports writer for The Dispatch, I was assigned to do a story on Welcome's Ralph Brinkley.

It seems that Ralph was something of a local legend even by then, winning modified stock car races at Winston-Salem's unique Bowman Gray Stadium at a prodigious rate. In 1976, at the age of 37, he'd won the third of what would be an incredible eight championships on the unbanked quarter-mile asphalt track. Before his career was over in 1998, he'd won 64 feature races there (a record that lasted seven years).

Like I said, local legend.

For my part, I knew next to nothing about stock car racing. I was a 25-year-old Yankee from Pennsylvania who grew up on baseball, football and basketball and regarded almost everything else as an unworthy diversion.

And so when I went out to Ralph's automotive machine shop in Lexington for my first ever interview with him, I told him all that. He smiled. He said he'd learn me.

Did he ever.

Ralph died on Wednesday at the age of 84, and while I always thought we had a terrific professional relationship between athlete and journalist, I also felt that he was a friend. He just made most people feel that way, I guess.

Ralph Brinkley

 Over the years, Ralph would explain to me some of the nuances of auto racing to help give my motorsports stories some depth. I began to appreciate the sport a bit more because of his generous insights.

A few years later, I was assigned to do an in-depth piece on Ralph. That meant riding with him and his crew to Bowman Gray Stadium, watching them set up the car (a modified Corvair), watching him race from the pit, then from the stands and then talking with his fans. It was an incredible experience. We didn't get back home until midnight.

What amazed me more than anything is that Ralph was as successful as he was in spite of being blind in one eye. When he was nine years old, he lost his right eye to cancer. Logically, you'd think that depth perception would be an issue for a one-eyed stock car driver, but that never seemed to be the case for Ralph, who would later get a private pilot's license to fly his cherished Piper Cherokee.

There's a great story out there that highlights both Ralph's personality and life perspective. He was once asked by fan Mark Benson if having one eye hindered his racing. "No," replied Ralph. "I just close my good eye and look out of my glass eye."

When Kim and I purchased a classic 1966 289 Mustang convertible, we needed to have the engine overhauled. The guy that was working on the car for us subbed it out to Ralph Brinkley & Sons Automotive. "Oh," I said. "I know Ralph. Thanks for that."

When I ran into Ralph a bit later, he told me several of the pistons had hairline fractures in them. He replaced them with durable racing pistons. The engine was never a problem after that.

He later went on to build his own airplane, an RV 7-A that he put together from a kit in the Lexington airport hanger. 

He also became a certified advanced scuba diver. Never saw that one coming, but I think the endeavor established him as something of a multifaceted renaissance man. Something more than a stock car driver anyway.

But the best part of all came in 2012. I was the secretary on the board of directors for the Davidson County Sports Hall of Fame back then. I added Ralph's name to the list of candidates for that year and we, the board, unanimously voted him in without debate.

When it came time for the induction ceremony, Ralph was as grateful and as appreciative as any inductee we ever had. He brought his family. He brought his pit crew. He brought a large number of his fans. He even brought his race car, which he had on display outside of the building that evening.

During the ceremony, Ralph easily spoke to the audience without notes. He was a natural speaker who was comfortable within his own skin. He regaled us with racing tales, with humor and with sincere emotion. By the time he was done, he had us in tears, including himself. Tears of happiness, mostly. "Who would think a person with one eye could ever be inducted into a sports hall of fame?" he asked, seemingly incredulous about his own induction. 

I will always remember his induction ceremony as one of the best we ever had, if for no other reason than the sheer joy he exuded that night. I'd never seen anything quite like it before.

The other day, Kim called me from work. She'd seen a story about Ralph's passing and she wanted to let me know. I felt a tinge of sadness, of course, but it also occurred to me that Ralph had lived his life to its absolute fullest. And so I smiled.

What more could a man ask?

 

.

A new fence

Like most people who face something that requires throwing lots of money at it, we kept putting off replacing the old, flimsy, worn down lattice fence that defined the property line in our backyard with that of our next door neighbor.

Kim and I had talked about doing this for years, and even had an idea of what kind of fence we wanted to put up.

Just not now.

But "now" had finally arrived.

So we made the leap. Because we live in the Park Place Historic Neighborhood, I had to check in with the City of Lexington to obtain a certificate of appropriateness. This is now a simple and logical process that no longer requires historic district board approval. It's simply an administrative matter and the project was almost immediately approved by Trey Cleaton of Business and Community Development. Easy peasy.

We also hired A&K Quality Fencing out of High Point to do the work. This was a great decision because the company was also doing the fencing for our neighbor. It was kind of a two-for-one project.

At any rate, here is a brief photo essay of our new fence:

1). This is what our old lattice fence looked like. The posts were never grounded in concrete and the fence itself was bowed and coming apart in several places. Encroaching ivy creeped through the fence and some animals, like ground hogs, were able to burrow through and raid our vegetable garden. It had to go.

2). The old fence is down. There's a property line in there somewhere. The old fence post holes give us a clue, but at this point, it feels really odd to share a free-range yard with my neighbor.

3). The new fence is up. Technically, it's a pine wood dog ear fence four feet high with a lattice header that adds another foot to the total height. It's tall enough that I can peer over the top with my hat and eyeballs like Wilson in Home Improvement. Sort of. It is regarded as a privacy fence, but the lattice header makes it more of a semi-private construction. We hope it keeps the ivy out and that the ground hogs don't know how to engineer tunnels under neath it (wishful thinking, methinks). But the fence is sturdy, with the posts solidly anchored by concrete into the ground. We are told this fence is good for at least 25 years. Great. I'll be 97 when we need a new one.

4). Here is the view from the other end.

5). Here is a view of the total fence line, minus a couple of yards or so. The decision now is to decide whether or not to paint it, stain it or let it age naturally. If we stain it, we'll probably go with white. But I like the idea of letting it weather with age. I think aging might make the fence appear to be a more natural part of the landscape.

Disregard the arbor that is in serious disrepair. That'll be our next project.

In the meantime, many thanks to Nico Barrientos and the crew from A&K Quality Fencing. They did superior work (See here).

Recycling history

I never thought I would hear these words coming from an American citizen, much less a presidential candidate for the United States of America.

Can it possibly be true?

Let's try this simple quiz:

1.  Who said, "I will get rid of the communist 'vermin'?"

   a) Donald Trump

   b) Adolf Hitler

   c) All of the above.

The correct answer is C, all of the above.

 

2. Who said, "I will take care of the 'enemy within'?"

   a) Donald Trump

   b) Adolf Hitler

   c) All of the above.

The correct answer is C, all  of the above.

 

3. Who said, "Migrants are poisoning the blood of our country?"

    a) Donald Trump

    b)  Adolf Hitler

    c) All  of the above.

The correct answer is C, all of the above. Well, actually, Hitler said "Jews and migrants are poisoning Ayran blood," but that seems to be a difference without distinction between the two.

4. Who said, "One people, one family, one glorious nation?"

   a) Donald Trump

   b) Adolf Hitler

   c) All of the above.

The correct answer is C, all of the above. And again, there is a slight difference without distinction when Hitler said, "One people, one realm, one leader."

Shockingly, but perhaps not surprisingly, Donald Trump uttered the first two of those nearly identical-to-Hitler verbatim comments during a Veteran's Day speech on Nov. 11 at a rally in Claremont, N.H. The other two came from Trump at various speeches across the country over the past few years. These are astonishing words coming from the Republican presidential candidate who is seeking a second term in office.

In my mind, they represent some of the most unAmerican rhetoric I've ever heard from an American politician.

I know, I know. How can I legitimately compare Trump to Hitler? After all, Trump has not practiced genocide like the Nazi leader, who exterminated six million Jews and another five million "undesirables" during his fascistic reign of terror in the 1930s and 1940s.

But, right now, the danger remains in the rhetoric. Hitler's ideology, memorialized in his book Mein Kampf (My Struggle), unveiled his blueprints for world domination. And we saw the results: concentration camps, book bannings, deportations, secret police.

When people tell you who they are, believe them.

Trump is already paving the road for his retribution ideology should he win a second term next November. He's already made clear he is prepared to round up undocumented persons and detain them in holding camps across the country. He's already attempting to break down our institutions, especially the rule of law that defines our democracy. Yet for now, it all remains mostly rhetoric.

Who's to say that if camps like this ever became an American reality, when do political opponents become incarcerated along with the immigrants? When do executions begin under the premise of journalists committing treason?

Learn from history, people. It's happening before your very eyes. The danger is there, camouflaged as political rhetoric.

But the rhetoric can easily become the reality for a duped and desensitized electorate.

Just like Hitler.

(For a deeper view of the Trump-Hitler similarities, see here.)

License renewal time

The panic attack came when I got the notice in the mail that it was time for me to renew my driver's license.

What, already? Seems like I just did that.

Well, I did. Five years ago.

But there it was, printed in red capital letters across the top of the notice: "It's time to renew your driver license!" There was no possessive on "driver," but there was that exclamation point, implying some sense of urgency and that I better take care of this matter right now. Right now, dammit!

The last time I had my license renewed, I think I had to take a relatively simple identify the road signs test. You know, what does a red sign mean? What does a yellow triangular sign mean? What kind of information is given on a white sign? Stuff like that. The quiz might have also served as the eye exam as well. At least, as a test for color blindness.

I had until February to renew my license, but I wanted to get this thing out of the way. I decided to go online and study road signs and road markings, but it wasn't long before I learned that North Carolina stopped giving the road sign identification test for renewals years ago.

Uh-oh. Now what? Surely there was some kind of test I had to take. Multiple choice? True or false?

So I googled NC driver's license renewal exam. There were several kinds of tests for which I could practice. I didn't know what to do. I asked some friends what they remembered from their last renewal, and they all seemed kind of foggy about it.

I'm not a person who tests well. I get apprehensive. Edgy. But I wanted to get this over with. So I took a couple of the practice exams until my head started swimming. Enough. Let's do this.

The DMV gives you the option of making an appointment for your renewal, or coming to the local DMV as a walk-in and take your chances on waiting for hours before your number is called, or you can renew online.

The thing about renewing online is that according to my initial renewal notice, if you renewed online last time, you must renew in-person this time. I quickly did the math in my head: if I'm 72 years old now, and my next renewal comes in five years when I'm 77, it might be better to go in person this time.

So I did.

The next day, I drove to the Lexington DMV for my in-person renewal, and sure enough, the parking lot was jam-packed. It was already 1:30 p.m. I didn't want to be there all day.

I was once told that things move more quickly in Mocksville, so that's where I headed. Twenty-five minutes later, I'm in the Mocksville DMV waiting room. There are 10 people in there, three of them waiting for their road test. About 35 minutes later, my number was called.

And then it was happening. My palms were sweaty. My heart was racing. Just like my wedding day. 

Here it comes: the exam.

"Sir, will you please look in the viewer and read the letters on the top line of the eye chart for me?" I was asked.

"M, Q, E, P, C, F, W, ummm, Deee?,Z,G,O."

"Thank you, sir. Will you please stand with your back to the screen so we can take you picture?

Huh? That was it? All that fretting and anxiety for an eye test?

Whew.

Easy peasy.

Antisemitism

More than 55 year ago, if I recall, our church's confirmation class took a field trip to a synagogue. This had to be in the early 1960s and I was a young teenager just beginning my high school years.

We were living in Bethlehem, PA, a deeply historic Moravian community, and I think the visit to the synagogue was a cooperative venture between the two houses of worship.

We weren't there for a service, but rather for the educational experience. I really don't remember much about that evening. And yet, there are some things that happened that night that have stayed with me all these decades later.

The rabbi gave all of us males yarmulkes to wear on our heads and I remember thinking this was cool. But I don't remember why we wore them. He then went on to give a brief history of Judaism. While he was speaking, I looked around the synagogue and remember thinking how surprisingly similar the interior looked compared to our own Moravian church. Candles. Pews. The difference, of course, was there was no Bible, but there was a Torah.

And not once did the rabbi discuss the Holocaust. Maybe the 1960s were still too close to the horrific history of the 1930s and '40s.

I think I came into the visit expecting to see something strange and exotic. I was probably mixing up Hasidic Judaism with Orthodox Judaism and not knowing the difference. I was probably expecting everybody to converse in Hebrew. And yet Dad had to learn some Hebrew while in seminary to become a Moravian minister.

When the evening was over, I remember coming away thinking there were more similarities among us than I expected. The three great faiths – Christianity, Islam and Judaism – are  tightly entwined, rooted as they are in the same Middle Eastern geography: they all use the first five books of the Old Testament as sacred scripture, they all draw their lineage to Abraham, and they all believe in one God.

In essence, we are pretty much the same. Pretty much the same.

Fast forward to today.

Given our similarities, there is an obvious worldwide rise in antisemitism, which is defined as the hostility or prejudice against Jewish people. The FBI says the rise in hate crimes against Jews in the United States is rising with disturbing frequency.

Which brings the Holocaust into focus. It is estimated there are only 16.1 million Jews in the world, which is an exceptionally small number in a global population of more than 8 billion people. Jews represent just 0.2 percent of the world's population.

The Holocaust murdered six million Jews. If there had been no Holocaust, it is estimated that there would be 32 million Jews on the planet now. Hitler was deadly efficient.

For such a small sect, Judaism draws disproportionate amounts of ire, and has for thousands of years. Illogically, Jews are accused by their persecutors of controlling the world's banks, the world's media, the theater and cinema, and so on and so on. I guess it's just a convenient – and lazy – way to label a people they can't understand.

If nothing else, my evening in the synagogue showed me that Judaism is just a different way to worship God by a people who breathe the same air, bleed the same blood, cry the same tears as we all do. What's so hard to understand about that?

Are we nuts?

As far as I know, the United States is the only country on the planet that has a Second Amendment, which in its most basic terms is interpreted as the Constitutional right to bear arms.

And as far as I know, the United States is the only country on the planet that continues to slaughter its own people with a horrendous butcher's bill of nearly two mass murders a day. So far, there have been over 560 mass murders in this country this year alone (the Gun Violence Archive, a highly referenced non-profit research group, defines a mass shooting as four or more people who are shot or killed, not including the shooter.)

Is there a correlation between all of this carnage and the Second Amendment? I guess that depends on who you are and what you believe and how you draw your correlation lines to connect the dots.

All of this grief and sorrow bubbled up to the surface again with last week's mass slaying of 18 people in Maine, perpetrated by a gunman using a military-style AR-15. The rifle is basically a weapon of mass destruction, usually holding a magazine clip of 30 rounds. The gun is generally chambered for 5.56x45 mm ammunition or .223 Remington ammo, with a muzzle velocity of 3,300 feet per second, which just so happens is fast enough to break the sound barrier.

Created in the 1960s, the lightweight weapon was used in the Vietnam war. It's sole purpose is designed to kill human beings. A single round can mutilate the human body. At the speed of sound. At the speed of an innocent and desperate cry.

Curiously, handguns are still the primary weapon of choice in mass murders. They are used in about 78 percent of mass murders from 1982 to August 2023, according to Statistica. Fairly or not, the AR-15 probably has earned its bloody reputation if only for the havoc its creates.

So here we are, once more wondering how we got to this place while the rest of the world wonders the same thing.

Second Amendment proponents (I always thought the Second Amendment was designed to create a well regulated militia as opposed to a loosely regulated armed citizenry) point to mental illness concerns with many of the shooters, and while there might be some substance to that argument, it makes no sense when the rest of the world also deals with mental health issues within their populations but suffers little to no mass murders at all. In my mind, the rest of the world renders the Second Amenders mental health argument as invalid.

The Supreme Court weighed in on firearms in 2008 with the Heller v. District of Columbia decision. In that case, the conservative court favored Dick Heller – who opposed a ban on handguns in the home – by a 5-4 decision.

Justice Antonin Scalia, writing for the majority opinion, added to the limited nature of the ruling, "Like most rights, the right secured by the Second Amendment is not unlimited. (It is) not a right to keep and carry any weapon whatsoever in any manner whatsoever and for whatever purpose."

Scalia's opinion could see into the future. We seem to have more open carry laws than ever before. Some states no longer require training, certification or any other form of registration to carry a weapon. Even age restrictions are being lowered in some states to purchase a weapon.

Why? What are we afraid of?

We seem to be traveling a dangerous path and it's becoming more fraught with fear by the moment. 

And there's no reasonable end in sight.

Wow, what a week

What is wrong with the Republican Party?

OK, OK, I know that is a loaded question. But does it really take more than three weeks to elect a new Speaker of the House?

For that matter, did we even need to elect a new Speaker?

Because Republicans are searching from within their own caucus for a nominee, and apparently can't find one, does that mean even they have to admit their party is drowning in chaos? 

And now, the search for a Speaker comes at a perilous time for this nation, what with international democracy-threatening conflicts in Ukraine and Gaza. And, of course, there's that little matter with a previous president who is overwhelmed with indictments while trying to run for re-election.

To my mind, the whole mess began in January when Kevin McCarthy, so transparently eager to become Speaker, agreed to terms whereby if he was chosen, his position could be ended by a vote of the House after a single motion to vacate the office.

Big mistake to agree to that, Kevin.

But that's what happened. Congratulations, Kevin. You outdid yourself. You're the first Speaker in American history ever to have his seat vacated by House vote. See ya.

Incredibly, Representative Matt Gaetz, a Republican bomb thrower who is currently under investigation by the House Ethics Committee for a number of allegations, including violating sex trafficking laws, presented the motion to vacate. You can't make this stuff up.

After a harried search for a nominee to replace McCarthy, the Republicans came up with ... Jim Jordan? Well, there's a winner for you. He's been in Congress 17 years, and has yet to sponsor a bill that has become law. So why does he keep getting re-elected? Do they not teach civics in Ohio? Jordan is also a bomb thrower and a Jan. 6 election denier (or rather, Big Liar) to boot. Just who you want to run the House and be second in line for the presidency, right?

But he, too, failed to gain the necessary 217 votes to become Speaker. In fact, after three ballots, he kept shedding votes. He eventually became the first Speaker nominee in modern history to fail to reach the 200-vote level. And this after apparently trying to bully other members (the Republican way, it seems) to vote for him. Ha.

Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right. Here I am stuck in the middle with you.

So now what? The House can't vote on anything unless it has a Speaker. Which means, for the time being, funding for Ukraine and Israel is on hold. Funding to keep the U.S. government operating runs out in November, so there's that. And God knows what else.

Unless the GOP comes up with a consensus candidate, the best solution I can figure is some kind of shared government leadership with the Democrats. That would mean, heaven forbid, concessions, cooperation and compromise. Imagine that. A true democratic government that actually works for the people.

History repeats...again

Given the current state of the world, I wish I knew more about the conflicts between Jews and Muslims, about Judaism itself, about the creation of the modern state of Israel. 

Or is it Palestine? Or is it Canaan?

I'm not quite sure what Hamas is. Or Hezbollah. Are they more than terror organizations? Are they states? Are they governments? From where do they get their power? From where do they get their financing? From where do they get their endless flow of arms? With whom do you negotiate?

The recent brutal assault by Hamas against Israel has thrown all these questions into my head. Israel has declared war, but war against an organization. I think. Wars are generally declared between states. Between governments.

And all of this is happening when Ukraine (who is led by a Jew) is fighting for its sovereign survival in yet a different upheaval. So just where are we in world history? Are these conflicts ultimately interconnected? Is it all about oil money? What does this all mean?

Because I am something of a World War II buff, I guess my first serious introduction to antisemitism was Nazi Germany's treatment of Jews and the subsequent Holocaust in the 1940s. But even the Holocaust is really just a pinpoint on the million-year timeline of Jewish persecution.

So is the Holocaust why Israel was carved out of Palestine by the United Nations in 1947? One has to think that while the concept of a Jewish homeland was noble, perhaps in the end it wasn't so clearly thought through if the result is never-ending conflict. Is shortsightedness the reason why we are where we are right now?

All I know about the creation of Israel can be found in the movie "Exodus." I should be better than that. 

To me, the most sorrowful thing from all of this is the generational fighting between the combatants. It really does go back a million years, perhaps more. The conflicts serve to magnify human bias, human hatred, human capacity for brutality, continuing as they do from one generation to the next.

Where does it end?

How does it end?

When do we learn?

 

Topped off

Remember the hail storm we had back in June?

Well, trust me. We had one. And it was pretty significant, dropping hailstones about the size of golf balls. I'd never seen anything like it in my life, and I'm an old guy.

The storm caused considerable damage. Both of our cars were peppered with the stuff and had to be repaired for thousands of dollars of dent damage.

Fortunately, our insurance paid for everything except the $100 deductible, and both of our cars look great. Kim got her car back about a month ago, and I got mine back about two weeks ago.

But then there was the roof on our house...

We had the roof put on about 19 years ago, shortly after we moved in, but there was no way it was going to survive the pelting it received from this storm. It was due up for a new one. I had four roofing companies look at it before we decided on Wimmer Siding Windows and Roofing. And, once again, our insurance came through.

But we had to wait about a month or so before Wimmer could pencil us in. That's how busy they were.

In the meantime, of the nine houses on our block, five of them already had new roofs installed. It was like we were living in a new construction site. We'd even reached the point of paranoia worrying about roofing nails all over the place. We figured it would be a minor miracle if we could get through the summer without a flat tire.

Anyway, the roofing crew arrived last Tuesday, happily hammering away, and within 30 hours, we had our new roof.

Here's a photo essay about the process:

1. The house before the crew arrives.

2. The six-man crew begins work early in the morning.

3. More shingles come flying off the front of the house.

4. Roof underlayments go up. Progress.

5. The shingles go up. Starting to look like something now.

6. Here is the finished roof. Looks good.

These are the hailstones that caused all the trouble in June.

 

So now we have a new roof. We feel pretty safe, secure and dry at this point, although time will tell.

The crew cleaned up after itself when the job was done, carting off old shingles and using magnets to pick up most of the loose roofing nails. But there will always be loose roofing nails. We did our own cleanup afterwards with borrowed magnets and I found 20 more nails, including five in the street.

So I suspect I'll be paranoid for at least a year. But at least I'll be dry.

Stiff as a board

 It's been years since I picked up a golf club. Maybe even a decade. Maybe longer.

That wasn't how I envisioned my retirement. Back in the days when I was a working stiff, I would hit the golf course with a certain amount of regularity, perhaps hitting the links twice a week. I'd even reached a degree of competency, scoring in the mid- to high 80s on most courses. Every once in a while, I'd even break 80. You know, just enough to keep me coming back.

But then something happened. I'm not quite sure what. I thought when I retired, I'd end up playing golf more often. You know, all that fresh air and exercise. The camaraderie of being with your friends. The pure and primal exhilaration of hitting a ball with a stick. It was all there.

And then it wasn't. Instead, I practically stopped playing the game.

"Why don't you play some golf?" asked my wife. "You don't play anymore. Go play some golf."

I think she actually was trying to get me out of the house. But I always had an excuse.

"It's too hot" or "I'm too tired" or "I've got yard work to do" or "I'm watching something on TV."

This was so unlike me 10 years ago.

Then, earlier this week, I got a text from my friend and former Dispatch colleague Donnie Roberts:

"Any interest in reviving your golf game?"

Back in the day, Donnie and I would hit the course once a week or so, which helped tremendously to break the stress of working deadlines at The Dispatch. But he quit playing, too, following surgery and other diversions. Donnie drives 18 wheelers for a living now, so his stress level is still there. My stress level is wondering if I should cut the grass today or not.

But, what the heck?  I suggested to Donnie that we should hit the driving range first. You know, to kick off the rust. We could do a golf course some other time.

So we did. Yesterday we met at Hit 'n Run in Linwood. When I pulled up, Donnie had a large bucket of balls waiting for me.

Both of us wondered if muscle memory would kick in. Nothing with the word "memory" in it is a guarantee at this point in our lives, but remarkably, after a couple of mishits and wormburners, we started hitting golf course-worthy shots. About 90 minutes later, after we worked our way through our buckets, we decided to play a round next week and see what happens.

In the meantime, I'm dealing with a different kind of muscle memory. I'm stiff as a board. I'm sore. My back won't rotate. My shoulders won't work. My wrists are shouting at me.

I forgot I'd gotten older, but I shouldn't have worried. My body is reminding me.

Decision time

My third notice came in the mail just the other day.

Traditionally, I don't let my magazine subscriptions run out. Whenever I get a notice, I almost always renew the subscription immediately. I did this for Time magazine. I did it for Civil War Times. I still do it for Monitor, another Civil War publication.

I like getting magazines in the mail. It's like getting a little Christmas present whenever they arrive.

But I may not do it this time. So I'm in a quandary.

I mean, it is Sports Illustrated, after all.

The fact that I'm considering not renewing my subscription to SI is shocking, even to me. I've been a loyal subscriber to the magazine ever since I was a junior in high school. We're talking 1968 here. That's 55 years of uninterrupted loyalty.

Sports Illustrated was the first magazine I ever subscribed to. I'd get my latest copy, take it to school and read it cover to cover in study hall when I should have been, well, studying. Every week, I'd grab my latest SI and read the editorial, the table of contents, Faces in the Crowd, even the publication statement on the contents page. My subscription even had my name on the cover's address stamp. It was mine.

I read about baseball, football, golf and basketball, but also about sports I didn't really care about. Hockey. Soccer. Auto racing. Horse racing. I felt I was becoming well rounded, if not actually aware.

Because I was subscribing to SI in my formative years, I acquired an appreciation for scintillating, incisive and perceptive sports writing. I didn't know back in high school that I would end up a sports writer myself, but maybe, just maybe, I absorbed a little bit of style and panache from the likes of Frank Deford or Dan Jenkins or Curry Kirkpatrick or Robert Creamer or George Plimpton or Tom Verducci. Maybe it was osmosis. Or maybe it was a dream.

But somehow, I became a sports writer, covering not only baseball, football, golf and basketball, but also soccer, volleyball, bass fishing, Hawg Runs and auto racing. Maybe SI helped prepare me for this. 

In the last five years, though, SI has gone through a significant change. Like most print publications, it finds itself dealing with the Internet, as well as all the other information platforms, that have virtually erased print media from our very eyes. The once weekly magazine now shows up in my mailbox once a month. That's 12 issues per year.

My subscription doesn't even include the swimsuit issue any more. I don't know how that happened.

But I understand. Even I am distracted by other news sources to where SI is now mostly out of sight, out of mind. I hardly even read my SI anymore when it does arrive, and certainly not cover to cover.

So now my 55-year-old subscription hangs in the balance. I'm doing a lot of downsizing these days in an effort to whittle away of some of the clutter in my life, and Sports Illustrated might be a victim of that downsizing.

I'm wondering if I'll get a fourth notice?

But the times are always changing, and this might be one of those times.

Blown away in Blowing Rock

For one three-day weekend every year, Kim and I head up to Blowing Rock for a quiet little getaway in the mountains.

We do this either in August or September, mostly to escape the heat of summer for a bit. The weekend we choose is the one Saturday of the month in which they offer Art in the Park, where craftsmen and artists offer their talents for sale and appreciation. It's literally cool stuff.

This year offered us something different.

The mom-and-pop motel we were staying at featured a large gazebo that offered a gas fire pit and so, even though we were a little worn out from the day of travel and shopping, we decided to join the two other couples and a single who were sitting there.

I like doing stuff like this. You're going to meet people you'll probably never see again. What could possibly go wrong?

It was actually pleasant for a while. When the conversation stalled, Kim suggested we go around the circle and tell each other where we're from and our ages, because, you know, we're nosy.

Amazingly, that went well. We all started feeling a little more comfortable with ourselves and less like strangers.

But then something happened. To this moment, I'm not sure exactly what. I mean, I wasn't expecting a U turn. But the single guy quickly went political, especially with the older couple opposite him. Suddenly, the conversation became about transgenders, and particularly, transgender children. A culture war issue.

There was a back and forth between them, growing more and more heated. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The couple directly opposite us tried to play peacemaker, but the temperature at the fire pit was rising incrementally. Suddenly, the wife of the targeted husband – who said she was 70 years old – blurted out to the single guy, "You're an asshole." She said this several times.

My brain stopped processing. I wanted to leave. But I couldn't because I was watching a car wreck and car wrecks usually have witnesses.

"Oh, really," said the single guy. "I was just trying to learn how you think, but all you give me is deflections. You're unteachable."

Kim and I remained mute, trying to become invisible. I was thinking of what my father told me some 50 odd years ago that you never talk politics or religion with strangers, and now I saw why.

"C'mon guys," pleaded the peacemaker. "We're supposed to be on vacation. Let's be civil. Chill."

The older couple, frustrated, got up and left. Shortly after that, after additional comings and goings within the group, we took our leave.

Back in our room, I had to think about what just happened. The 70 year-old-wife should never have resorted to base name calling, but why did the other guy think he was a teacher in this episode? Teaching what? His view?

But even on a deeper level, I was floored. Within 20 minutes, complete and total strangers were at each other's throats. How did this happen?

I'm trying not to turn this into a metaphor for where we are in this country, but it seems rather obvious what's happening. We've pretty much lost our civility. One of my friends suggested that confrontational reality TV has helped usher us to this point. So has unrestricted social media. I happen to think a poisoned political atmosphere has given us license to be unthinkingly rude to each other.

We've seemingly lost some of the values taught to us by our parents, by our teachers, by our churches. Heck, even our churches have become politicized despite the Founders' vision of separation of church and state.

And I don't know what the answer is. Well, for me, it's to keep my mouth shut in socially inflamed situations, especially when I'm bumping my aura with somebody else's.

No name calling, for sure.

Be kind.

All you need is love.

 

 

Fact checking

Well, here we go again.

Apparently, my last two blogs – one dealing with the 14th Amendment as a legitimate Constitutional remedy to prevent Mafia Don from seeking the United States presidency for a second time, and the other for exploring the miasma that is suffocating the Republican candidates running for the presidency (six candidates astoundingly indicated they still would vote for Trump for president even if he was convicted of criminal charges and serving time in jail.) – ruffled some Trumpian feathers.

Now, I know full well that my blogs aren't going to change any Trumpy minds, even though I still hold out hope that my perspective at least solicits an, "Oh, OK. Maybe. I didn't realize that." 

I write my blog in the spirit of traditional American political debate. That really used to be a thing, you know, going all the way back to the founding of the nation.

Instead, as it sometimes happens, I got thrown some shade, misinformation and what I consider to be conspiracy theories from the Trumpers. Rest assured, you are not going to change my mind, either. I'm sometimes labeled as a desperate hater who is suffering from Trump derangement syndrome and should stick to sports writing because clearly there's no place for such a biased and uninformed fellow like me to comment on politics. 

Hmm. So much for honest political debate. I'm still going to write my blog the way I see fit, armed with facts from the mainstream media as well as what I absorb with my own eyes and ears. If that bothers you, then don't read it. If you want to offer your view, at least respond with true facts. It's that simple.

I'm going to take a look at some of the Trump-supporting responses my last two blogs generated, and I will attempt to defend my views with links, where appropriate, to support my opinions. This could take some time.

Economy: This link is very inclusive and lengthy. It shows the economy was a mixed bag during the Trump years, but not nearly as great as Trumpers remember, either. This will take some time to read. Take note of the sources at the end. (See here).

"Biden crime family": There is no Biden crime family. The investigation into son Hunter Biden and the alleged bribes he took from China and Ukraine, along with his father, is in its fifth year with still no evidence that Joe Biden accepted bribes. There are no charges, either. So far, it's all been a Republican wet dream. (See here).

Fabricated charges: This one makes me chuckle. Some Trumpers think the current 91 charges against Mafia Don, as well as those charges against numerous Jan. 6 defendants, are phony, false and made up because Democrats/liberals are desperate to imprison Trump (the word "Desperate" comes up often). Here's a quick civics lesson: charges are not made up. Most potential charges, supported by evidence, go through grand juries first and are voted on prior to becoming indictments. It's the American system and it's worked pretty well for over 200 years. (See here).

Jan. 6: Some Trumpers still insist that the Jan. 6 riot at the U.S. Capitol was staged by the FBI, CIA, Capitol police and BLM, posing as MAGA Trump supporters. I'm pretty sure if that premise were true, recently convicted Oath Keepers, Three Percenters and Proud Boys now serving time for decades are wondering why the redeeming evidence (for example, a supposedly exculpatory video by John Sullivan) hasn't been floated on their behalf. The premise is so preposterous that I don't need a link for this one. Just common sense. Oh, and because these guys have been convicted, its OK to call them insurrectionists.

The Deep State: There is no deep state, but it makes a good excuse to serve as cover when all logic fails.

The Big Lie: This is why Trumpy is in legal trouble in the first place. He refuses to believe that he lost the 2020 election, claiming that it was rigged. He was claiming the election was rigged even before the election. It makes sense that The Big Lie is built on Trump's foundation of 30,000 little lies. (See here).

Secret documents: Both Donald Trump and Joe Biden (and Mike Pence) were found to be in possession of sensitive and/or secret government documents. But there is a difference in how they were handled. Biden immediately notified the National Archives and Records Administration, as well as the Department of Justice the day they were discovered on his property. Subsequent documents were found on later dates, Biden complied with consensual searches and the documents, on each occasion, were returned. Trump, meanwhile, maintains the documents are his personal materials (by law they are not), so he is looking at several charges, including violation of the Espionage Act. It all seems so unnecessary. All he had to do was return them to NARA. It's a false equivalency to compare Trump's outrageous handling of documents with Biden. (See here).

Ageism: Joe Biden is 80 years old. Trump is 77. But Biden is the one who attracts criticism for his stumbles, mumbles and implied mental decline, while Trump appears to be, um, normal. Or not. Time for a Trevor Noah humor break. (See here).

Covid-19 response: Depending on the matrix you use to measure these things, the U.S. response to the Covid-19 pandemic was pretty shaky for a highly developed industrialized nation. But Republicans, with their stubborn anti-science, anti-vaccine and anti-masking philosophy, almost single-handedly contributed to the nation's excess death rate, dying almost twice as much as Democrats from the virus. This is Republicans at their dumbest, willing to die for Trump. Are you surprised? (see here).

Hate: What I really hate is what Trump has done to the country that I love. I can't abide by a person who is serving in the most revered political office in the world who celebrates grabbing women by the genitals, being held liable for sexual assault, paying off porn stars, lying to the people on a clearly pathological level, separating nursing children from their mothers' breasts as national policy, stealing national secrets, intimidating poll workers, displaying deadly incompetence in the face of a pandemic ("Maybe you could use bleach. And lights."), and consoling hurricane victims with rolls of paper towels among a litany of other indignities and illegalities. Hate? Not really. Don't confuse hate with our desire for accountability.

Love: Under Biden, the rate of inflation fell from a national high of 9 percent last June to 3.3 percent today. He created 13.8 million jobs during his administration. But if he didn't accomplish anything else, his Inflation Reduction Act that allows Medicare to negotiate prescription drug prices to provide lower costs for consumers is a game changer. What's not to love?

 

 

Stunner times two

There was one moment during the first Republican presidential debate on Wednesday that absolutely took my breath away:

When asked by the moderator if Mafia Don were to be convicted in a court of law (and thus imprisoned), would they still vote for him to be President?

Six of the eight candidates raised their hands. Yes, they would support him.

Wait. Candidates running for the office of the President of the United States would vote for a criminal to be president if he was their party's nominee? Holy crap.

On the one hand, I think I know what's happening here. Given the choice, those voting for a criminal would rather do that than see a Democrat in office.

On the other hand, that's still pretty weak sauce. It shows a clear lack of respect for the presidency and it makes me wonder why they're running for the office in the first place if they hold it in such low regard. What a bunch of shallow, heartless, unpatriotic ignoramuses. How does putting a convicted criminal in the presidency serve the people of the United States? I'm pretty sure this unholy concept didn't figure into the thinking of the Founding Fathers as they crafted the Constitution.

Then, about 48 hours later, came the second stunner: Mafia Don received his new identity number as Inmate PO1135809 at the Fulton County Prison for alleged crimes (election interference) committed in Georgia during the 2020 election. You know, where he begs to Georgia Secretary of State Brad Raffensberger in what is a now a famously infamous phone recording, "I only need 11,000 votes. Fellas, I need 11,000 votes. Give me a break."

Give me a break. That's all you need to overthrow the will of the people. That's all you need to topple democracy. Give me a break. In government, these are the words of an unctuous autocratic demagogue.

Of all the 91 charges against him in four different venues, in my mind this recorded conversation stands as the most outstanding piece of evidence against him. Stop the steal, indeed.

Trump's mugshot, to my thinking, is almost comical. He's glowering. He's leering. He looks like a predatory insect out of a Marvel movie adventure searching for the Infinity Stones. You just know he rehearsed the pose over and over in advance, liking what he saw in the mirror. He might have have the shot taken over and over in the booking office until the cameraman got it right.

And now the T-shirt with the mugshot can be yours for a mere $34.

I don't know. I guess my vision of American government is more idealistic, and certainly less cynical, than what Mafia Don has to offer. I envision politicians who actually work for the people to try and make the lives of their constituents better; I envision politicians who actually abide by their oaths of office. 

It shouldn't be that difficult.

Let's try the 14th Amendment

Well, this is interesting:

"No person shall be a Senator or Representative in Congress, or elector or President and Vice-President or hold any office, civil or military, under the United States or under any state, who, having previously taken an oath, as a member of Congress or as an officer of the United States, or as a member of any State legislature, or as an executive or judicial officer of any State, to support the Constitution of the United States, shall have engaged in insurrection or rebellion against the same, or given aid or comfort to the enemies thereof But Congress may by a vote of two-thirds of each House remove such disability."

That's Section 3 of the 14th Amendment (1868) to the Constitution. It's not a particularly easy read, say, like a James Patterson novel or your everyday sports page, but there it is – a pathway to keep Mafia Don from running for president again.

Well, at least in theory.

It was originally designed to keep former Confederates from entering Federal government after the Civil War. That's logical enough if you consider the Confederacy to be an immoral (a slave state) and treasonous (anti-Constitutional) conspiracy.

Our Constitution is genius. It anticipated the arrival of Mafia Don.

The clause, however, known as the "disqualification clause," has never been tested.

Since we've never had a president question the outcome of a free and fair election before, and we've never had a president incite an insurrection before (or had a president liable for sexual assault, or impeached twice or indicted four times for a total of 91 crimes – including racketeering), we're treading upon previously untreaded ground here.

The clause, as it reads, gives Congress the power to disqualify someone who has already held a public office from holding "any office" if they participate in an "insurrection or rebellion" against the United States. 

While the clause applies to current or former federal officials, there is a question as to whether or not it applies to the presidency.

I suspect that if the clause is ever invoked, it ultimately will be headed to the Supreme Court. You know, the Supreme Court that is currently dealing with its own issues of lapses in ethics and morals. Supreme, indeed.

I don't know if invoking the 14th Amendment will actually succeed, but as 2024 approaches with more and more speed, and as the indictments weigh more heavily upon Mafia Don's shoulders, I bet you'll hear more and more about it. It would certainly be interesting to see the 14th Amendment play out against a fascist former president who actually called for the suspension of the Constitution (see here.)

Very interesting, indeed.

 

Here we go

When District Court Judge Tanya Chutkan issued a protective order on Friday toward criminal defendant (and former President of the United States) Donald Trump, indicted for alleged crimes during the Jan. 6, 2021 insurrection at the U.S. Capitol, it was to prevent him from disseminating material obtained from the government during the discovery phase of the trial.

In other words, to keep his mouth shut. No more "If you come after me, I'm coming after you" stuff and thus effectively tainting the jury pool. Jury tampering, if you will.

Well, here it is Sunday morning, and as far as I know, Trump has remained relatively silent. It might be a personal record for silence, I don't know. Part of me is pretty sure that Chutkan will throw Trump in jail for any violation of the order, and part of me thinks that Trump is arrogant enough to force the issue, reasoning that 24 hours or so in the hoosegow is exactly what he wants to further inflame his base of whiny and aggrieved supporters.

This, Trump's third indictment with a fourth one expected from Georgia later this week, illustrates the sad state of affairs No. 45 has brought on this country: conspiracy, fraud, conspiracy to defraud, obvious lies stated as his perceived notion of fact, liable for sexual assault, apartheid, subversion of democracy, voter suppression, misogamy, delusion of reality, unconstitutionality and simple meaness.

In my mind, he might be the most un-American president in our history.

•  •  •

I guess it's no surprise that in the Trump era – whether he's president or not – we have a conservative Supreme Court that reflects Trump's arrogance.

I'm thinking of Associate Justice Clarence Thomas, who is busy accepting 38 vacations in the past 30 years – some apparently unreported – from billionaire donors like Harlan Crow and others. Man, if there's one way to corrupt the judicial system, money would be it. 

So how can we be sure Thomas' decisions on the court are not being influenced by his donor friends? Why isn't Chief Justice John Roberts laying down an ethics rule book?

Is the title "Justice" even appropriate for members of this court?

•  •  •

Republican Alabama Senator Tommy Tuberville (who might not actually be from Alabama) is single-handedly withholding 301 promotions in all five branches of the military because of the military's policy on abortion. Tuberville, who says he is a pro-lifer, objects to the military's paid leave and reimbursed travel expenses for personnel seeking abortions in states that have not banned or restricted the procedure.

Because of Tuberville, both the Army and the Marine Corps are waiting for commandants to be promoted into their positions of leadership. Because of Tuberville's idiocy, the military – and thus the nation's security – is at a greater risk. Culture war versus security. Imagine that. Meanwhile, Tuberville insists he's on a righteous crusade.

I'd ask why anybody would support a clown like this. Then I remember when Trump said that military personnel who died in the line of duty were suckers...that coming from Private Bone Spurs himself. And look at the support he continues to receive.

All of this stuff is why many folks find themselves worrying for the democracy of this country as the 2024 general elections draw closer and closer.

It's time to think hard about what we want for this country. There are no protective orders in an autocracy.

Unpresidential

 "If you go after me, I'm coming after you."

          - Donald Trump, August 4, 2023

The above quote sounds a whole lot like something a Mafia Don would say.

Instead, this was posted on former president Donald Trump's oxymoronic Truth Social platform. It sounds like a threat. I think it was meant to be a threat. I think the clearly unhinged ex-POTUS was aiming this threat at potential jurors, prosecutors, judges, potential witnesses, bailiffs, court stenographers, court custodians and anyone else connected to any of his three – and no doubt soon to be four – indictments that so far are totaling more than 70 charges of illegalities against him.

You know, things like obstruction, conspiracy to fraud, battery, defamation, violation of the Espionage Act and making false statements. Among others.

Just what you want from a president.

"If you go after me, I'm coming after you."

There has been a plethora of inspiring moments from other presidents worthy of our consideration: 

• "Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country." – John F. Kennedy

• "With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right..." – Abraham Lincoln

• "A house divided against itself cannot stand." – Abraham Lincoln

• "We have nothing to fear but fear itself." – Franklin Delano Roosevelt 

•  "Believe you can and you're halfway there." – Theodore Roosevelt

• "Nobody cares how much you know until they know how much you care." – Theodore Roosevelt

• "It is better to offer no excuse than a bad one." – George Washington

• "Truth will ultimately prevail where there is pains to bring it to light." – George Washington

Those are just a few incredible presidential moments designed, in part, to help unite the country in its times of travail. It's what presidents do. It's in their job description, especially the part that says "... will to the best of my ability preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States."

And then we have this:

"If you go after me, I'm coming after you."

Sweet Jesus, how did this man ever get to the presidential podium? He reeks of privilege, of arrogance, of malignant malevolence, of insipid ignorance, of consciousness of guilt, of cognitive dissonance, of anything but the humane American character found in the shared DNA of our national history (both good and bad) and experience.

And now he's running for a second term, determined to complete the damage he's already inflicted upon us, determined to replace our democracy with autocracy, to divide us further with his hypocrisy and lies.

Mafia Don's first term as president was an American anomaly. A second term would be suicide. This cannot happen to us again. It cannot.

 

Oppenheimer

If you are going to watch a three-hour movie that is driven primarily by its dialogue, then that movie better be pretty darn good.

"Oppenheimer" is that kind of movie.

It's not often that a flick with minimum bursts of action and maximum bursts of speech hold my attention for any sustained period of time. The last movie I saw that was given primarily to the spoken word was Gary Oldham's portrayal of Winston Churchill in "The Darkest Hour." And before that, possibly "The King's Speech," which deals with the speech impediment of England's King George VI as he ascends to the throne at the dawn of World War II.

There might be a couple of others out there, but if there are, I can't think of them right now.

The common thread here, if you look close enough, is history, and primarily World War II history. That automatically captures my attention.

"Oppenheimer" details the adult life of J. Robert Oppenheimer, a theoretical physicist (he also theorized about black holes in the 1930s) who led a team of brilliant scientists toward the creation of the atomic bomb, thus forever altering the course of human history as well as the political landscape upon which that history travels.

Directed and written by Christopher Nolan (along with co-writers Kai Bird and Martin Sherwin), the movie moves briskly from scene to scene with precision and crispness, building anticipation as the weapon is slowly built from theory to reality.

The ensemble cast is spectacular, with pencil-thin Cillian Murphy in the lead role as a conflicted Oppenheimer; Emily Blount as his betrayed but steadfast wife Kitty; Florence Pugh as Oppenheimer's lover; Matt Damon as stalwart Lt. Gen. Leslie Groves, who brought Oppenheimer into the Manhattan Project; Kenneth Branagh as scientist Niels Bohr, and a host of other incredible actors, including Oscar winner Rami Malek (Bohemian Rhapsody), Matthew Modine, Casey Afleck and Tom Conti as Albert Einstein.

But the standout performance, to my mind, was Robert Downey Jr. as politician Lewis Strauss, who serves as Oppenheimer's nemesis in a post-war atomic world. Downey will probably always be remembered for his role as Ironman in the Marvel franchise, but he superbly ascends to a higher role here as Oppenheimer's devious and paranoid antagonist. I almost didn't recognize him.

While the movie about the creation of a world-shattering weapon would seem depressing on the surface, the story – and the subsequent morality tale – is still fascinating. When the ultimate countdown ticks off (bets were placed by the scientists that the chain-reaction detonation would set the atmosphere on fire and thus destroy the world), the moment is breathless. And emotional.

When the explosion engulfs the movie screen (Nolan said there was no CGI involved), it's overwhelming. And thought provoking. This is the dawn of duck-and-cover society. This is us.

The movie's back story, as it were, was Oppenheimer's communist affiliations before the war, which led to a post-war congressional closed-door investigation as to whether or not he should keep his security clearance. He was denied.

Because we still live an a nuclear age, this movie offers relevance as well as critical history. Not many pictures can pull that off as well as this one.

Danger ahead

Back in 2016, when charlatan human being Donald Trump was elected this country's 45th president, I was sorely disappointed, but I still held aloft an ounce of optimism.

I thought Trump, a novice politician with little or no moral character, much less political wisdom, could grow into the job.

Friends with cooler heads told us to be patient, that we will get through this.

We barely did. 

Trump, who said that he and only he could stop the American carnage (American carnage was news to me) and drain the swamp festering in Washington DC, promptly set about not building a wall at the southern border with Mexico (a broken promise); using separation of children from their families as national policy to halt the influx of immigration of brown-skinned people who might also be seeking asylum; the attempted dismantling of a NATO that has helped rebuild global (and American) security since World War II; ignoring the devastation of a ghastly pandemic that eventually killed more than a million Americans, advising people to forsake life-saving vaccinations for Clorox, internal lights or horse medicine.

The evidence is all there in audio and visual for all of us to see.

The American carnage turned out to be projection and confession. You know, where projection and confession are the underlying foundation of a Republican Party that has become a clown-worshiping cult.

And now, Trump is preparing to run for a second term, even in the face of at least two, and possibly four, indictments for stealing government secrets, voter fraud and inciting insurrectionists to storm the Capitol while Congress was in session. This is not to neglect a Federal Judge, Lewis Kaplan, who in reviewing the defamation case of E. Jean Carroll, declared this past week that Trump did indeed commit rape against the writer.

Earlier this week, several former Trump administration workers unveiled plans for what a 2025 Trump administration might look like (see here). The agenda includes expanding the powers of the executive branch to give the president more power.

That's called authoritarianism. It's called Fascism. It's called Mussolini. It's called Hitler. It's called Trumpism.

It's not called democracy, at least, not in the sense of Thomas Jefferson, James Madison or George Washington. There's a reason the Founders didn't give the president absolute powers. Indeed, they could have built our political system around that concept, but they did not. The wisdom of the 1700's is immense and majestic. Why mess with it?

The concept of American democracy is based on the power belonging to the people, and it's the people who are given an avenue to that power through checks and balances in the government they created.

By restricting those checks and balances – or even eliminating them – we open the door to a political system that exploits grievance, retribution and revenge against its political enemies while disguising those actions as policy good for the country. We already saw that on display in the separation of families at the border. We see that when Trump declares that the press is the enemy of the people. We see that with white Republican men attempting to rewrite African-American history books in Florida middle schools, suggesting that slavery was beneficial to African-American society instead of being the basest of human indignity.

Trump was correct about American carnage, but only when you realize it's his carnage that we're dealing with.

The 2024 election is less than 16 months away. It's the time we have left to ponder whether we want to continue with the democracy of our Founders, or something else entirely, something very dangerous indeed.

 

It's getting hot out there

This is getting weird.

The other day, Chris Gloninger, a respected TV meteorologist from Des Moines, Iowa, announced his resignation after 18 years on the job for several different stations across five different states.

He quit because of death threats and other email harassment he was receiving from a climate change denier. He was called a liar by deniers despite the mountain of measurable evidence suggesting – proving – that climate change is a real thing.

Say whut? A death threat against a TV weatherman? Because he was exploring climate change and bringing his message to the people?

He was called a liar by deniers despite the mountain of measurable evidence suggesting – proving – that climate change is a real thing.

Just a few days ago, the Earth experienced its all-time high average global temperature of 63 degrees, according to the University of Maine's Climate Reanalyzer. This system has been in effect for 44 years. The global reading had never had a single-day reading higher than 62.6 until this past week. The entire week had an average of 62.6. On Thursday, it reached a single-day record of 63 degrees.

Now 63 degrees seems comfortable enough until you understand that it takes in temperatures from all points on the planet: the ice caps, the deserts, the mountains, the oceans. So you can see how a sustained increase of even one degree can be significant to the planet.

And obvious, even to the layman. Or it should be. Sea levels are rising because glaciers are melting. Fossil fuels help create thermal inversions, which spawn more tornadoes and stronger and more frequent hurricanes. Or even hailstorms that spit golf ball-sized ice bullets at you. 

Kim and I once visited Anchorage, Alaska, in 1992 and one of our stops was to Exit Glacier, which is a landlocked marvel. I recently read where Exit Glacier has retreated a quarter of a mile from where we once visited 31 years ago. Not that long ago, really.

I don't get science deniers. Science is the science of proof and, consequently, it's the science of truth. Science is based on research, empirical evidence and peer review. And, yet, in the contrarian world of right-winging conspiracists, we have flat-earthers and anti-vaxxers who end up causing great harm for the rest of us both socially and physically.

The 19th century parable of the Truth and the Lie recently came to my attention. I'll try to keep it short:

"The Truth and the Lie meet one day. They stroll to a well and the Lie says, 'The water is nice. Let's take a bath together.'

So they disrobe and enter the well. Suddenly, the Lie comes out of the water and puts on the clothes of the Truth and runs away. The Truth comes out of the well but cannot find the Lie to get her clothes back. The World, seeing the unclothed Truth, turns its gaze away with contempt and rage.

The Truth returns to the well and disappears forever, hiding its shame. The Lie travels around the World, dressed as the Truth, satisfying the needs of society because the World, in any case, harbors no wish at all to meet the naked Truth."

Wow. Food for thought.

 

Hail, Mary

When the storm first hit late Monday afternoon, I thought, "Oh, look. It's hailing. Lookit the little hailstones bouncing on the ground."

We don't see hail all that often. I thought watching the little ice nuggets bouncing on the ground like frozen jumping beans was kind of interesting.

For about a minute. 

 

Hailstones bounce up onto our porch.

Then the storm picked up momentum. The wind blew a little harder. The stones got larger. They started banging on the roof. They started banging off the storm windows. They started banging around in my head. We were getting pummeled and I'd never seen anything quite like it. I worried about things I never really worried about before: like our cars; like our roof; like the trees in our front yard.

Yikes.

We went outside to the front porch and watched the hailstones bounce off our cars. We don't have a garage, so there was no place to shelter them from the onslaught. We wondered if they were taking damage.

I worried that hailstorms can be precursors to tornadoes, so it could always get worse, you  know. But we never saw funnel clouds.

And then, after about 10 minutes, it was over. Neighbors cautiously seeped out of their houses and began to gather and assess. Leaves from the trees littered the streets and yards. Kim picked up a hailstone off the porch. It was about the size of a golf ball. I took a picture.

The stones were about the size of a golf ball.

What had we just gone through?

The neighbors had collected into little knots of concern and so we moved from car to car for inspection. When we got to ours, yep, there was damage. Kim was crestfallen. She'd never had so much as a scratch on her 12-year-old car. And now this.

We got the insurance wheels in motion and by Thursday morning, an appraiser combed over our cars. Both had taken hits, but the hood of Kim's car, perhaps made of a thinner gauge metal than mine, was as dimpled as a golf ball. (Does that make her car more aerodynamic? Or more prone to hooking and slicing?). The hood will have to be replaced. Paintless dent repair hopefully will take care of the rest of the damage.

A roof assessor came out the next day and took pictures. We have some decisions to make.

One of the assessors had taken a screenshot of the weather map as the storm passed through and he showed it to me. It looked like Lexington was Ground Zero for the barrage. And it felt like my driveway was Ground Zero for Ground Zero.

Extreme weather is becoming more of the norm these days, it seems. Hurricanes are more violent, tornadoes seem more common. We're in an awful heat dome right now. Climate change is real. Nature has a way of issuing warnings. It might be best if we heed them.

 

Wagner Group

For the life of me, I couldn't figure out where the Wagner Group – that impressively armed mercenary organization founded, financed and led by billionaire thug Yevgeny Prigozhin and who were messing around in Ukraine for the bidding of Russian president Vladimir Putin – got its name.

"Wagner" certainly isn't Russian. But, when pronounced "Vahg-ner", it sounds more like German. Which is odd because there is a bitter history between Russians and Germans. Check World War II for reference.

I was confused, which happens often when I parse my way through world events. I am just a humble retired sports writer, after all. Figuring out earned run averages is hard enough.

A quick Google search said the origin of the name "Wagner" for the group is unknown, but it also suggested that others refer to Dmitri Utkin, a Lt. Col. in the early years of the group. Utkin used the call sign "Wagner" because he had an appreciation of German composer Richard Wagner. Interestingly enough, Adolf Hitler also had an appreciation for Wagner. And Utkin, apparently, has a passion for the Third Reich. Hmm.

Consequently, Utkin is believed to be a neo-Nazi and, as The Economist reports, he has several Nazi tattoos.

Nazis and Russians. In concert. Hohhh-kay. Wagner it is.

This is already getting more complicated than I intended, but apparently, there are reportedly some neo-Nazi units within the Wagner Group, which might help explain some of the atrocities we've seen on the Ukraine battlefield. But the UN University Center for Policy Research said the Wagner Group is not ideologically motivated (un-huh), but is rather a "network of mercenaries linked to the Russian state." Russia, laughably, denies this and said officially the Wagner Group doesn't exist.

Well, the group that doesn't exist turned on Putin yesterday and began a march on Moscow, setting into motion any number of potential outcomes. A rebellion in the works.

As an amateur military historian, the whole thing seemed really, really bizarre to me. The Wagner Group is marching down a highway, vulnerable to air attack (recall the Highway of Death in the Iraq war when US aircraft obliterated 2,700 Iraqi vehicles that were in the process of retreating), when suddenly a deal is struck between Putin and Prigozhin. The march stops. Prigozhin gets to live (for a little while, at least. Stay tuned).

Meanwhile, what of the Wagner Group, Putin's hirelings who were actually outperforming the Russian army on the Ukraine battlefield?

Ukraine is said to be starting a counteroffensive in an effort to push the Russians off Ukrainian soil. Without the Wagner Group in the field (essentially the equivalent of a corps, totaling between 20,000 to 40,000 men, many of them former prisoners who were recruited and released to fight Ukrainians. Some of them are said to be pedophiles and sex offenders, much less murderers, which might further explain some of the atrocities on the field) it could be beneficial for Ukraine and the cause for democracy. That, of course, remains to be seen.

A lot, in fact, remains to be seen. Putin has become weaker, allowing a group of rebels to advance within 120 miles of the capital. What does that say for Russian military intelligence? His manufactured war against Ukraine is already in shambles, overextending his military, which in turn has resulted in a stronger NATO alliance.

This could be revolutionary stuff.

Presidential Records Act

I don't do this often. Actually, up until this moment, I've never done it at all.

But I decided to take former President Donald Trump up on his particular plea as he stubbornly tried to explain his claim that he could retain boxes and boxes of top secret and confidential records that he stole from the White House after his term ended in January 2021.

"I can declassify them," asserted Trump. "They're mine. When I declassify them, I can do whatever I want with them according to the Presidential Records Act. You can look it up." 

Okay. So I did. I went to Google, typed in "Presidential Records Act," and this is what I found:

§2202. Ownership of Presidential records

"The United States shall reserve and retain complete ownership, possession, and control of Presidential records; and such records shall be administered in accordance with the provisions of this chapter."

That seems pretty clear cut. If you read further, there's a section describing management and custody of records. A sitting president can dispose of records, usually going through the National Archives and Records archivist, although there are specific procedures to follow with Congress. Trump said he could declassify material simply by thinking about it. That procedure is not found in the PRA.

You can see for yourself (see here). Happy reading.

Even though the PRA is United States Code, it does not carry the weight of any enforcement. That's probably why it wasn't referred to in the 37-count indictment against Trump. What does carry the weight of enforcement is the Espionage Act of 1917, particularly the section regarding the retention of classified documents. A total of 31 of the 37 counts are filed under the Espionage Act. Each count is worth 10 years in prison if Trump is found guilty of any of them.

Trump insists the PRA allows him to keep presidential documents, whether they are classified or not. Apparently, he doesn't appear to be able to read or to understand what it is he's reading when he does read. And that's why, in part, this entire sorry episode could have been avoided if he had simply returned the documents to the National Archives when NARA asked for their return. It's that simple.

But he didn't. My guess is that perhaps it has something to do with an apparently underdeveloped brain that only understands doubling down on confrontation with curious moments of projection, confession and cognitive dissonance. It's the same underachieving brain that ran the country for four years.

•   •   •

 I had another laughable moment when I read the comments of a Trumper who wondered why we don't wait for evidence anymore.

Ahem. Well, we do. The evidence is gathered by the special prosecutor and presented to a grand jury, a collection of the defendant's peers, who then vote to decide whether or not to prosecute the case. That's how it works. And that's what happened. It's the system that's the bedrock material of our country's democracy.

It's my understanding that many Republicans have not bothered to read the 37 counts because, well, why should they? It's clearly nothing more than the political persecution of "the best president we've ever had." Right?

But just in case you haven't read the 37 counts, here they are: (see here). Happy reading.

The parts that really bothered me were the ones that included words like "nuclear", "military" and "foreign countries." You know, those eyes-only words. Not the words you want to see strewn across the floor of a bathroom in Mar-a-Lago. You know Mar-a-Lago, right? It's Trump's vacation resort for Chinese spies. (See here).

This guy is reckless, careless, clueless and incredibly dangerous with our national security.

•   •   •

The 37-count indictment against Trump has ignited some elements of the GOP (GOP used to be an acronym for Grand Ol' Party. Now, in my mind, it stands for Grievance is Our Platform) to complain about a perceived two-tier justice system that offers one set of rules for Democrats and another set of rules for Republicans. 

All you have to do is look at Hillary Clinton and the missing 30,000 emails for proof. All you have to do is look at Hunter Biden and his laptop. All you have to do is look at the Biden crime family and the bribes they've accepted. (Note: Trump and his father, Fred, have been arrested three times between them. A crime family?).

Never mind that two separate attorney generals under Trump (Jeff Sessions and Bill Barr) could not find evidence to prosecute Clinton, try as they might. Never mind that the FBI is led by Trump-appointed director Christopher Wray.

Nevertheless, both the FBI and the Department of Justice are seen as complicit in maintaining this supposed two-tier system and thus many Republicans seek to defund the FBI and restructure the DOJ. Presumably in their image. All because they lost an election.

Bwa ha ha ha.

It's all rather cynical.

My theory is that Republicans are still reacting to Richard Nixon's resignation in the wake of the Watergate scandal 50 years ago. It's a moment engraved into American history and there's no expunging it and how could this happen to Republicans anyway because we don't elect criminals to high office? Surely, it can't happen again, can it?

Can it?